010; interesting developments.

ffffff so it turns out i'm not as good at keeping a blog as i thought i would be. which is sad, because i really do have a lot of opinions that i want to yell at everyone until they accept them and start to see me as a new messiah, followed by a steady morphing into my image. hopefully all of this sans a horrible single white female situation. if you fuck my boyfriend in the dark with pointy shoes i will end you, i swear.

i really don't want this to turn into a blog about blogging. it'd be like that kid in year eight when you have to do speeches, and they do a speech on how horrible it is to write speeches. and despite this happening EVERY YEAR they go through to the finals and everyone thinks they are SO COOL. well, hear this, i will not go in this direction! people will think i am SO COOL because of my witty and insightful comments and ability to relate to all! though it would be easier to do a blog on how horrible it is to write blogs. but oh, if there's anything you should know about me it's that i don't take the easy way out, unless we are talking about tidying my room (put everything in the closet) or loading the dishwasher (shove all the cutlery in blade/prongs/whatever first EVEN THOUGH you get a better clean if you put them in the other way). these are my only exceptions. i appear to have gone on a tangent, though a tangent with valuable cleaning tips. maybe that's my secret talent?

stay tuned for the next blog when i show you how to iron around buttons on shirts properly! yeah, it's actually super hard. the amish have the right idea: abolish buttons, bring on the beards. i would really like a beard. people who stroke their chins thoughtfully always seem to look so much more intelligent when bearded. it must be where they keep their second brains.

about the image in this post: i thought maybe you'd like this picture of mickey dolenz playing the bongos. i think we can all agree he is the superior monkee.

009; how to make the most of your drop crotch pants.

welcome to another episode of: trends i don’t understand!

today’s hardhitting issue is drop crotch pants. i don’t understand baggy pants period. i mean, hey, i know how cool it is to completely drown your figure in fabric but drop crotch pants are a bizarre combination of thai fisherman pants and slim fit trousers. is this an update of the 90’s when it was cool to wear skirts over your jeans? even though this trend was carried out by chunky women with giant hoop earrings and did little to hide their thighs?

drop crotch pants are everywhere these days and i am so incapable of understanding them. i miss giant sweatshirts and skinny jeans. i don’t want to reverse it. to me, having fitted tops and baggy bottoms is horribly unflattering and drop crotch pants have the ability to make skinny models look like they have hormonal imbalances that affect their hips. or, as carles from hipster runoff said, like they’ve shat themselves. is irritable bowel syndrome in this season? will acne be in next season? unfortunate people of the world: now is your chance to be fortunate! now is your chance to get invited to hot clubs and bang hot chicks! hot chicks with fake pimples from the stella mccartney spring 09 ready to wear collection!

i mean, what, do people keep things in their drop crotch pants? is that where you keep your marijuana? actually, no, the people that wear drop crotch pants tend to be skinny and fashionable. do you keep cocaine in your drop crotch? do you drop your drop crotch pants, whip out a couple of grams and then snort them off the urinal/closest model? or maybe you keep heroin in your drop crotch? is it safe to carry needles so close to your genitals? what other things can you stash in your drop crotch pants? keffiyehs? more drop crotch pants? were they created by a man who thought that graphic t-shirts with slogans alluding to the size of their penises were tacky, but a large area of cloth that stops at your knees was a classier way to lure the ladies?

these are the hard hitting questions that i ask in this blog. i’m just waiting for the pullitzer. and when i get it, i will store it in my drop crotch pants.

ps. sorry my posts are so non-existent! i know all four of you who read it were on the verge of starting online petitions that achieve nothing asking for me to start posting again. i’ll try and make an effort now. it’s the least i can do for you fans who rely on me for the hardhitting facts about keeping drugs in your pants.

008; blog rumours make elliott smith fans cry more than elliott smith songs do.

i've been grossly ill all weekend, and inbetween the sleeping and the vomiting i've come across a rumour online that they're making an elliott smith biopic. while this is brilliant, the second part of the rumour says that zach braff is the actor up for the role of elliott.

lol WHUT.

don't get me wrong, i love zach braff. his comic timing in scrubs is wonderful, as is his everything in garden state, but he is completely and utterly NOT an elliott smith. zach braff is really good at playing... zach braffish characters. i mean, i'm sure he's good at doing other things too, but like jason schwartzman has his max fischer, zach braff has his andrew largeman. at this point i would like to add that i adore jason schwartzman and he has a much broader acting range than just max fischer, but hopefully you see what i'm getting at there.

however, the main reason i have doubt in this rumour is because there is absolutely no physical resemblance between elliott and zach. zach braff looks like john ritter. zach braff looks like that shady guy that went out with anne hathaway. if you're going to find an actor to play elliott smith the most important part is: THE LUMPYNESS. elliott's adorable lumpy face. you can't have a baby-faced elliott. that's blasphemous. heath ledger would've been the best choice for an elliott, but sadly this is hindered by the fact that a) much like elliott, he's dead just now and b) heath ledger was a nick drake fanboy over an elliott fanboy. the only other lumpyfaced person i can think of is gordon ramsy, but that wouldn't real work for several reasons that there's no point even going into. so, it would seem that there's no-one. however, currently on channel one kinky boots is playing (which i saw at the movies when it came out and it's one of those lovely billy elliott heartwarming-to-the-point-of-heartburn pieces of queer cinema that everyone should see) and i remember when i first saw it my brain screamed; ELLIOTT. ELLIOTT, YOU ARE IN A FILM DESPITE YOUR DEADNESS. HOW IS THIS. and it's because of joel edgerton. not only was he in ned kelly with faux elliot #1 heath ledger, but he was in star wars! anyone in star wars is cool! i strongly urge everyone to sign one of those online petitions nominating joel edgerton as elliott smith in the rumoured upcoming film. let us all forget for now that those petitions achieve nothing. let us instead BELIEVE IN THE POWER OF THE INTERNET.

because if you believe in the internet, anything is possible. even dobby/sponge fanfiction. go on, google it. then claw your eyes out and lobotomize yourself.

007; phat beatz for phat peepz episode 1.

because i've turned into a dirty hipster, i've started to enjoy music that kids in house of holland shirts and horn-rim glasses like to listen to at their la parties while being photographed by mark hunter (fyi an 'uhu gareth pugh' hoh shirt is at the top of my christmas wish list, and i will wear it with pride feat. my horn-rim glasses and addidas nu-rave sneakers). this includes steve aoki, who i always thought looked like a pretty cool guy, but i've never really liked ~club music~. because it is required of hipsterdom i downloaded pillowface and his airplane chronicles and for some reason i love it. this cannot be explained, though it's possible i have been possessed by cory kennedy.


this song makes me want to dress up in child-has-eaten-crayons-then-vomited-on-me raver style and pop an assortment of unknown pills. even if this is done in my living room as opposed to a club. i think uffie is supercool even if she is a bit overhyped. the bottom line is the world needs more female french 'rappers'. i've also uploaded her song 'pop the glock' because it's like imogen heap's 'hide and seek' if imogen heap lived in the world of myspace, clubs and casual sex.


bonus fun! does it offend you, yeah? are effortlessly awesome but this remix is like... going to cafe and discovering you only have enough money for your turkish apple tea and not the tea AND a pretty cupcake, but then the nice waitress brings the pretty cupcake to your tables with the tea, winks and says, "this one's on the house!" and you are left with a permanent :3 face for the rest of the day. it's like that but for your ears.

an important note: this blog is written with sarcasm scattered throughout. no-one should try to be a hipster. it's like meth. not even once.

steve aoki @ myspace.com/steveaoki.

006; don't you hate it when you're just trying to navigate a forest and wild pidgeys keep appearing ever five fucking seconds.

i awoke in the middle of the night with the pokemon theme song stuck in my head. i can't explain why, but sometimes wonderful things happen to wonderful people, and i can only assume this is karma. i'm not sure what for. maybe i have unwittingly saved orphans from having their eyes spat on by thugs by choosing not to go into starbucks. say i had entered starbucks, had gone up to the scene kid barista (we are assuming i did this on a saturday morning at cathedral square, since that seems to be when the scene kids have their shifts) and attempted to get a soy chai latte, only to be incapable of pronouncing any of the words required to make an order. behind me in line a mullet'd twenty-something who likes to pretend he's still in the 90's becomes royally pissed off with my inability to order and storms out, only to take his rage out on some orphans sitting at the friendship corner and spitting in their eyes (to make it worse, they were sitting at the friendship corner on the anniversary on their parents' deaths, where five years ago to that day they were killed when a man who had just been eating peanuts spat in their eyes and triggered off their intense allergies). i think i have digressed here but the point is: i am a hero.

imagine my disappointment as i went to get my gameboy advance (pokemon edition, might i add) only to discover the cartridge for pokemon gold was NOT in it! and it wasn't with my other games! why, it was like an unfashionable man spitting in my eyes on the anniversary of my parents' deaths triggered by peanut allergies that were themselves triggered during a similar attack! if you can imagine such a terrible scene. apparently my friend has it because i appear to have loaned it to him (i'm not sure why i would do this, maybe i had forgotten to get him a birthday gift and i panicked) and in the meantime i have to retreat to the depths of my childhood memories and quench my pokemon related thirst with it. remembering my pokemon back-pack. remembering my giant meowth pillow. remembering my collection of 200+ figurines. remembering my actual pokedex, and how one day in the mall a kid asked me if he could see it and i told him to go away. remembering the gameboy theme song...

i think the point that i'm getting to is that this blog will probably end up being shortlived since when i get my pokemon cartridge back it will take over my life and i will invariably regress mentally to the age of eight. and if this blog does continue a new post will be made every time i win a gym badge, and i will post pictures of me in the flared pants and t-shirts with giant pictures of cats on them that i used to wear at the age of eight. listening to boyzone and writing poetry about chickens riding wheelbarrows.

even worse, i could start cosplaying misty.

BRB YOUTUBING EPISODES.

005; OMG PLZ SING THE DOOM SONG FOR ME! DOOM DOOM DOOM!

if i ever become famous (which i obviously will) i want to be like jhonen vasquez. i want to create something awesome that has the unpleasant side effect of spawning the worst fanbase anyone could ever have. fyi i don't include myself in this group, i like to put myself in the 2% of people who are reasonable fans of his work (johnny the homicidal maniac, invader zim etc.). but the other 98%, oh, their existence is cruel. merely thinking about them is like being stabbed in the brain because they have this unique ability to make you briefly less intelligent. on further though... maybe they're all a race of super humans? well, not super humans because then they'd probably have awesome tron suits instead of stripey hot-topic sweatshirts. they're probably not very resistant to the pressure in space. or the heat in hell.

part of me worries that maybe jhonen vasquez brought this on himself a bit, due to his previous life as a mall goth. and i think part of him worries about that too, thus his impressive transition from the picture on the left to his snappily dressed present self. but a $3000 suit can't hide your past, jhonen! that's what the internet is here for!

you know that jhonen is having fun when he titles a blog about the san diego comic con as 'Reporting LIVE from the throbbing ass of Hell'. he then follows this up with how much he hates cosplayers. in a later entry he then tries to educate his readers (which is silly because they don't have brains, just skulls full of gir figurines!) by informing them that he doesn't actually like being harassed when he's in a conversation, no matter how trivial, because he doesn't value their opinions. to be fair he prefaces that entry with, 'Contrary to popular belief, however, it's not the fans that get me to this point...' but i don't believe it for a second, jhonen, you sly bastard. especially since this was around the release of jellyfist. it's okay, i bought it, you can harass away.

the sad thing is i think that the fans are completely oblivious to the fact that he doesn't like being asked when invader zim is coming back. they probably think he enjoys engaging in a conversation about such an original topic that is both stimulating, revealing and heartwarming. they don't know he's praying for lasers to erupt from his eyes. it's almost cute, the naivety. it's less cute though since a lot of them have massively gauged ears, and through the gaping hole of skin you can see another three hundred replicas clutching their cute wee neon coloured cameras and non-licensed chain store merchandise. you might think i'm making a broad generalization here, but that's what broad generalizations are for. to apply to a group of people who all took in the same photo of bill kaulitz from tokio hotel to their hairdresser and who really connected with invader zim because they discovered that they're not alone in being S0o0o0o0o RANDUM ^_^

this photo is pretty brilliant because it captures jhonen vasquez's supreme hatred on camera. if you just read his blogs you might think that he's being sarcastic when he talks about wanting to kill them all. but your eyes don't lie, jhonen. as captioned by my surrogate brother arran: "fuck, i wish this pen was sharper."

jhonen vasquez's blog @ questionsleep.com & chancrescolex.livejournal.com.

004; if bruce banner hulked out would it break his crocs?

the day i got seriously into fashion was the first time i saw someone wearing crocs. i had an epiphany that day: fashion should never be sacrificed for comfort.

i don't care if you work all day and it's easy on your feet. wear some fucking converses. or addidas sneakers. WEAR SOME FUCKING BAPES. wear fake bapes. you might look like a hipster but you won't look like a such a tool. just a hipster tool. i've never worn crocs simply because i will not bring that hell on me and have to live with the constant reminder that i have, at one point in my life, worn crocs, so maybe they are comfy. but that's a shit excuse. sacks are probably really comfy too. strapping pillows to your body is probably damn comfy, because then you can go rollerblading and fall over and not bruise yourself on the pavement. but you don't do it.

i don't care if you think they're 'not so bad'. they are so bad. they are a crime against nature. you can shove whatever shit you like on them; you can get those stupid buttons that clip on to the holes and look like disney princesses. I DON'T CARE. IT LOOKS EVEN WORSE. IT LOOKS LIKE YOU THINK THAT ACTUALLY LOOKS COOL.

i don't care if you only wear them around the house. your house should be condemned.

i can't even end this post properly. i just want to find an ozone-friendly way to burn crocs and cruggs and whatever the hell the crocs masterminds are thinking up next. probably crocs for hookers. covered in glitter with four inch platforms and little buttons in the shape of dicks.

003; twilight - punk'd branches out into books.

at the moment every person on the planet is obsessed with stephenie meyer's twilight series and the upcoming film. that's not even an exaggeration; you're either obsessed with making i ♥ edward cullen t-shirts or obsessed with slagging it off and setting fire to i ♥ edward cullen t-shirts. according to teenage girls, middle-aged women obsessed with disney channel original movies and entertainment weekly, the twilight series are 'the hottest books since harry potter'. i think that twilight is the comfort eating of literature - in the wake of a harry potter related depression people will just read whatever the hell they can get to ease the pain, putting on a few pounds of teen angst and hot topic merchandise. even though you're only on the outskirts of a problem, you know that if you abandon twilight you'll just end up in a heap on the floor crying, so you keep going until you're 300 pounds and writing jasper/emmett fanfiction. because it'd be soooo totally hot and as a twist emmett would be really submissive during their intense hyper-speed vampire sex and jasper would have a whip!

so, i read the first three books. my best friend owns them all (oh, you!) and during a particularly traumatic period of being trapped in a dingy room by an oppressive aunt and uncle (it's true, i am the boy who lived) i read them all. i will admit, i got a bit carried away. when you're only allowed out of said room to fold mountains of washing you take what you can get, and for those two weeks i was deeply engrossed in the life of bella swan and her relationship with the vampire edward cullen, her struggle to prove her worth to his family, and the love triangle between the two of them and werewolf jacob black. i found myself smiling as i read romantic scenes. i grew concerned when bella's life was endangered. and then i woke up from the edward-induced stupor and tried to figure out what the fuck just happened.

now that i'm out of that sparkly vampire hell, i can see these books a lot clearer. i think they probably started when stephenie meyer was listening to her dashboard confessional (i'd like to point out here that the lengthy page long dedications at the book of each book are dedicated to her favourite bands that 'helped her through the writing process') and writing some buffy/angel fanfiction. then! suddenly! an idea! stephenie meyer decides to lobotomise all her characters. from then on she begins furiously writing, or perhaps just letting her cat sit on the keyboard and seeing what interesting things it can type up for her, and creates plot points that you can't actually make up (unless you're the keyboard cat, probably wearing a studded bracelet for mall goths instead of a collar).

twilight (book one) sypnosis:
a girl moves to a shitty-ass town for no apparent reason. she meets a pretty boy. he avoids her. oh no, she is heartbroken! however, all is well: he's a vampire and he thinks she's pretty cool. plus he sparkles in the sun. they fall in love very quickly but another vampire is angry and tries to ruin their lives, but luckily pretty vampire boy and his family save the day. i don't know about you but this sounds like fanfiction. possibly jonas brothers fanfiction. mary-sue character happens to meet nick jonas - he is so dreamy and holy shit he feels the same! love blossoms, miley cyrus is full of rage. luckily the other jonas brothers help to kill her violently.

it just gets even more absurd in the next few books; there's a group of 'royal' vampires living in some kind of vampire vatican city in book two, a vampire army in book three (i smell season seven of buffy, DO YOU?) and in book four (which i haven't read but have heard about in great detail) it is revealed that edward cullen is a night rapist and that bella's werewolf exboyfriend is in love with edward and bella's freak baby. woah! that's intense! you might need some time to get over that intensity. i find a good way to do this is to burn all of the books or use the pages to make some kind of papier-mâché craft. like a tree-hut to live in while you avoid the stampede of rabid fans to the midnight film premiere.

i read someone say on a forum that their sister had read all the books, and that she had said that she thought they were terrible but 'once you get started you can't stop. it's like a crack addiction'. and really, there's no better way to sum up the appeal of the series. stephenie meyer has successfully written four books of shit, vampires and angst and turned it into a million-dollar empire. the mind boggles. and there's another one coming, and, depending on how well the film does, probably some sequels. maybe one in 3d!

the only real option is probably to give in and join the phenomenon. well, the safest option. and whatever you do, don't ship bella/jacob 'cause you probably won't have long to live.

ps. don't read this if you don't want the books spoiled. oh, wait! it's okay, you pretty much know what's going to happen about two pages into each book given that the basic plot in every one is exactly the fucking same.

more information on the twilight series from the nearest teenage girl or @ stepheniemeyer.com.

002; fancy some oral luke worrall?

i'm sorry, that's a horrible title. though to be fair if house of holland made a luke worrall shirt that's probably what it would say.

okay, so people are divided into five camps it would seem when it comes to luke worrall;

a) ferosh!
b) cole mohr's bitch.
c) agyness deyn's bitch.
d) kelly osbourne's bitch.
e) KILL IT WITH FIRE. HE ONLY HAS ONE EXPRESSION AND A POORLY PLACED PIERCING. I HAVE TURNED A RED COLOUR WITH RAGE THAT IS CLASHING WITH MY KEFFIYEH.

i vote a at all times, along with about three other people (those other people being cole mohr, agyness deyn and kelly osbourne). luke's definitely one of my favourite male models, i've got a nice big folder of him taking up space on my harddrive. i've even got that cracked out arena homme editorial with cole mohr. i have no idea what's going on in that. i think that's probably working against luke worrall quite a bit, it has this knack of causing you to forget everything you ever knew about him and focus on that entirely. when you close your eyes, you see cole and luke on their backs with their feet touching. when you sleep you dream of thrusting their arms out like zombies. when you do those magic picture things you go cross-eyed and instead of seeing the boat you see those creepy shiny gloves. it's not a comforting thought. breathe deep now, exhale, go to a happy place.

fyi, this is your happy place. half naked with face paint. don't argue. just accept. no need to thank me.

i will admit that luke worrall is getting noticed for clinging to people, like a very photogenic leech. i don't think it's intentional, i think he's probably just pretty cool and other models like to go clubbing with him. maybe grope him a little. but he can't help being so effortlessly wonderful. the internet's reception of luke worrall leaves only two logical answers:

a) jealous ugly fat people who can't pull off facial piercings are the only people with internet access.
b) they honestly don't like him.

and as i said before, i always go for a.

001; uhu gareth pugh!

so, i've had livejournal(z) for a while, but since they're more a vehicle for my teen angst as opposed to how hideous i think paisley is, i thought i'd make a blog. about things that are close to my heart, like fashion and music and literature and gossip magazines. a real blog. a real blog means you bitch about other things as opposed to yourself! i know, you learn something new every day.

i think what made me decide to start this was looking at gareth pugh's spring '07 collection. as i sat drinking tea (wow! tea! i know, aren't i a real class act!) and chain smoking my way through a pack of pall malls, i went through it and mind = blown. gareth pugh is everything right about fashion. gareth pugh is everything right about art. gareth pugh is everything right about skinny white guys who are pretentious in a good way. i think what i'm trying to say is that gareth pugh is the bono of fashion, in the sense that he is helping to make the world a better place . he's not like bono in the sense that he's not an arrogant fuck who's released the same three songs (vertigo, beautiful day & whatever that roof top song is) incessantly over the last thirty years under different names. and gareth pugh doesn't need glasses to be awesome! gareth pugh probably willingly stares directly at the sun and the sun just backs off because otherwise it won't be able to see anymore awesome collections.

so, uh, as i was saying. gareth pugh's life just revolves around design. he's never sold a piece despite being a little fashion darling and he basically lives in poverty, using all of the money he makes from shiny happy press to make more clothes! plus all of the awesome things that he smothers models' faces in. none of his designs could ever be commercially successful (though in his latest collection there is a slight spattering of marketable and wearable pieces) but he doesn't stop. it's like he slaves away in a laboratory melting down household chemicals and linoleum to make wonderful drugs to inhale with your eyes. and immediately after you've inhaled/snorted/injected/licked like a cane toad his creations you embark on a glorious hallucination where you're king of a futuristic england or, in the case of the picture on the right, a goth trapped in a mirror factory. either way the fucking time, skill, love and sparkles gone into that piece is paralysing and i am deeply madly in love, despite the paralysis. i don't need limbs or facial expressions to communicate how i feel about gareth pugh! for future reference: one blink means hate it, two blinks means love it, three blinks means i need another smoke.

i'd give all my money to gareth pugh if i didn't need it to buy some new tights. fucking ladders.

gareth pugh spring '07 ready to wear collection @ style.com.